Chapter Text
Ever since Harkness could remember, he’s wanted to be a part of the Long Walk. Wanted to be the walker who’d win it all. From his mother’s encouraging words, to his father’s stern expectations, the walk was what they expected. The walk is everything. A chance to reinvent the common man into something greater, something holier and good and wonderful. You could become someone impervious to hunger and the cold, living without a care in the world. Without worry as to whether or not you’ll have dinner, if the hole in your shoes are that bad, or if the house you live in is bound to fall apart.
Money is the root of happiness. Everyone needs it and everyone wants it. Harkness is everyone, vying for that chance to be happier. Be it hope or pride, he knows he’ll win.
The morning of the walk, his mother grabbed his face between her hands and she smiled. Beamed even, with her crooked white teeth. Her brown eyes bunched up into crests, shining just like the sun.
“You’ll win it, you’ll see.”
“This walk is all you need.” Her lips curved upwards and she showered him with praise in that soft voice she always spoke to him with.
His sisters hugged him, clinging to him like he was off on vacation. His father stood behind them with an approving nod, Harkness wanted this moment to last forever. It felt right, this moment and everything leading up to the walk. It was as if the world divined it. His own happy ending was just waiting for him a couple of miles away.
But now, he’s starting to worry. Doesn’t know what this walk means to him anymore. After that uphill climb it's really only gone downhill, for lack of better terms.
“Tick, tock.” A voice whispers from behind him.
A rhythmic clicking of the tongue. The analog clock of his life withers.
“Huh?” He half-heartedly answers, not daring to speak more, lest he falter in pace.
“You’re running out of time.” It answers, nasally and echoey.
Harkness turns and faces the voice. There stands number 38. Billy Stebbins, as the major called him. He vaguely remembers Pete McVries and Ray Garrety calling him Superman, all muscles and long legs. He doesn’t look much like Superman now though, all hunched over with his hair sticking to his forehead.
He stares for longer than is acceptable, icy blue eyes stare back without complaint. Harkness chuckles then.
“What are you talking about? I’m right as rain.”
To spare Stebbins from his reality would surely be best. A sprinkle of gravel sinks into his foot, pressure so precise and finite, it sends a torturous shiver up his leg. He winces before schooling himself with a grimace. This time it's Stebbins that chuckles.
“Poor firefly…” Stebbins pouts mockingly, near sardonic. Like he’s deriving pleasure from this interaction.
Or maybe it's because Harkness’ headlamp is still shining on. Bobbing through the night sky, up and down.
“Well…it's not like you're looking any better.” Harkness bites back, sees Stebbins’ face scrunch up.
“Im handling my pain just fine. Can’t say the same for you.” He adds, barely spitting it out.
He half expects to get a response. Some snide remark or another chuckle.
“Only time will tell for us then…” He ominously replies with a sniffle.
Harkness feels bad for just a second. Maybe it’s because he's in Stebbins’ shoes and knows that the dampness in their shoes isn’t just sweat. If anything, they're both just two sick boys on a walk to heaven. And by heaven he means the prize, that sweet finish line. What’s a good book without companionship then? No one quite likes a rude protagonist.
Harkness clears his throat.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just tired and honestly in uhh quite a bit of pain.”
An olive branch is extended, who knew trees could reach so far. He moves closer then, Stebbins that is, farther from the edge of the road.
“I didn’t take any offense, wasn’t much of an insult. You aren’t intimidating.” His lips curl up slightly.
“I’d say the same then. Must be getting pretty bored if you’re talking to me right now.”
Harkness is starting to understand him a little more. He tries to rile you up, not like Barkovitch, but in a more subtle psychological way. Yikes.
“You aren’t my first option, happened to be the closest. We’re far back. If you fell now, who’d pick you up? Hmm?”
Stebbins eyes him up and down. No doubt to intimidate him. He eyes him back, up and down. He gets a quirked eyebrow in response, a stare that catalogues him.
“Well, I hope you at least think of helping me. Though, I think I might have more luck bribing you.”
“You don’t have anything I want.”
“I’ve got plenty.”
“Then name them.”
“…” Harkness can’t think of any.
“Exactly as I thought.”
“Well, I’m entertaining you right now. That's what I have to offer. You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Harkness smiles, uninhibited, as if he were back home with his sisters.
Stebbins, unaware of the miniscule smile on his face, looks almost surprised. Or disgusted. Harkness can’t exactly tell.
“Maybe you should take a figurative page out of Pete’s book. Him and Ray don’t even seem tired. Opening up could be good, even if it's just one person.”
“Whats the use of making friends when there’s only one winner.”
“They say its about the journey, not the end.”
“You are going to die. Haven’t you realized? This journey won’t matter and that book won’t either when you're buried six feet under in a rotting coffin.”
“You sure have a way with worlds…” Harkness huffs out.
“But that's beside the point. If its all going to end like you say it is…then just enjoy it!” Harkness’ closed fist playfully punches Stebbins’ jacket clad shoulder.
“Live a little!” He punctuates.
“I am living.” Stebbins defends with hiked shoulders.
Harkness laughs lightly, unconvinced but amused. He shifts awkwardly, trying to steady his right foot. Stebbins eyes him before continuing to speak.
“My heart is beating. I’m breathing right now.” He adds.
“Well, beyond that. Y’know, don’t you have someone waiting for you? Like your mom, friends,or a special someone?”
Stebbins grimaces.
“Ok, so no…” Harkness looks forward in thought, eyebrows pulled together.
“Then I’ll be your friend!”
“You?”
“Why not, technically we’re already acquaintances. So it's only natural that we become friends.”
“Okay…” Stebbins agrees hesitantly.
“Okay!” Harkness repeats, elated.
He quickly grabs his notebook from its place nestled between his backpack strap and grabs his pencil from his back pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Don’t you want to remember this moment? This is worth writing down. I’ve written everything, got some pretty good material.” Harkness practically preens, angling the notebook closer to him.
It's a page on Stebbins. It has his name and a brief description of him and a very crude drawing of him too. Miscellaneous notes litter the page, scratchy and not in any particular order. The corner of the page has a note “new friend”, with an unnecessary amount of arrows going to his name and back. In the dark, he can barely make out a page titled Curly. There's an x on the corner of that page, along with a number. Likely when he punched his ticket.
“You’re halfway to being a stalker.”
“What? No!?” Harkness pushes up his glasses at this comment.
“I’ve just got good ears, my momma says it's to make up for my bad eyes.”
“Your momma?” Stebbins snickers briefly.
“Hey-”
Harkness can barely get a word in before Stebbins has a coughing fit. Three coughs, then a wheeze, then the repeated sharp intakes of short breaths. Stebbins looks away, ashamed to have shown weakness perhaps. Harkness hurries to put his journal and pencil away, instead opting to fish out something from his backpack. He rummages for a while and finds a dark green-brown glass medicine bottle, half empty with some liquid left in it. He offers it over.
“What is it?” Stebbins grabs it, swishing the liquid around as he scrutinizes it.
“It's like a cough syrup…or err I think? It's more like tea or a herbal remedy. I don’t really know what my momma puts in it.”
“And they let you keep it? Thought they didn’t allow medicine.”
“Well, it’s not exactly medicine.” Harkness counters with a small grin.
Stebbins unscrews the glass medicine bottle and drinks from it. It goes down quickly and thankfully Stebbins doesn’t cough or choke on the liquid. Harkness eyes him carefully, waiting for a reaction. Stebbins rescrews the cap onto the bottle before handing it over.
“So, how was it?” Harkness pries.
“Fine, better than I expected.”
Harkness takes back the bottle. His fingers briefly brush Stebbin’s. His fingertips burn hot like the sun and they scorch Harkness. He pulls his fingers back quickly and neither talks for a while. The sky is still dark and many of the others ahead of them have started dozing off. Harkness swallows, throat dry, and suddenly he feels worried he won’t have much luck sleeping tonight.
“Thank you.” Stebbins mutters and Harkness nearly doesn’t catch it.
He does catch Stebbins moving closer though. They’re nearly bumping shoulders now. It’s getting colder and Harkness can feel the fever-like heat radiating from Stebbins. Sometimes you have to cross the divide. And sometimes you have to move a step closer to your right. Harkness can do the latter. They bump shoulders. Stebbins doesn’t move away and Harkness smiles to himself.
He clicks off his head lamp and dozes off to sleep. He dreams of rabbits and daisy filled fields. He dreams of home.